Sweet Dreams
by Une-fleur-m'a-dit
Summary: Abby, Luka and three children...Read and see!
1. Prologue

-I don't own anything, except this story

-Many, many thanks to Maggie for helping me with this fic!

* * *

**_"Do not stand at my grave and weep, I am not there, I do not sleep.  
I am the thousand winds that blow, I am the glints on fallen snow.  
I am the sunlight on golden grain, I am the autumn's gentle rain.  
When you awaken in the morning hush, I am that swift uplifting rush  
Of quiet birds in circled flight. I am the soft stars that shine at night.  
Do not stand at my grave and cry, I am not there, I did not die."_**

Abby watched silently as the sky slowly darkened, a few stars appearing dimly. December was here, winter creeping through the cold nights. Trees were bare, shivering in the hostile wind as their lifeless leaves faded at their feet. Abby lifted her arm, collecting in her bare palm the first snowflake fallen of the sky, a moon's sequin lost on the vast expanse of the Earth.

She sighed once, twice. What a long day. Could it have been worse? She hadn't thought she would make it until the end of her shift. Three, _three_ kids had died. Who would ever allow that? What kind of heartless man would even hurt his children? They only wanted to take one last breath again, feel the gentle lips of their mother caressing their forehead as she wished them good night…

One last breath again…

Sweet dreams my tender loves…

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by Cleveland Amory

This was only the prologue, so it was supposed to be very short. Please comment, and don't forget that english is not my fisrt langage


	2. Chapter 1

Set in season 9.

And thanks Maggie (agaaaaain)

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¤ Earlier that morning ¤ 

She'd never been the "getting up with the sun"type. It sort of deppressed her, knowing that even the pigeons under the Clark Street Bridge hadn't yet stirred a wing while she was busy trying to find her way through the dark and empty streets of Chicago. Shivering slightly in her cotton fabric coat, she quickened her pace, revived by the hope of the deadly strong coffee in the lounge. Her hot breath formed steamy clouds in front of her lips, her hands were numb from the cold. She vigorously blinked her eyes a few times, the ice on her eyelashes melting as it brushed her skin.

The ER was dead: nobody was stupid enough to get hurt at 5:00 in the morning. At the admit desk, Susan was absent-mindedly filling out some charts, Malik and Chuny were reading their horoscopes in a magazine and the flabby form of Frank, in a corner, was making strange noises, a mix of latent growls and sharp whistlings… snoring. She half-smiled; it wasn't exactly what she would call a glamorous view of the ER.

She slowly made her way to the lounge, taking off her coat. It was dark and silent, but a dim light was coming from the window: December's grey dawn.

A muffled movement came from the couch. "Hey."

She vaguely distinguished in the darkness the tall outline of Luka. She smile genuinely, the memory of Frank immediatly forgotten. "Hey yourself" . She sat next to him, sensing the sleepy tone of his voice. "You slept here?"

He shooked his head, sighing. "No, didn't sleep at all."

Abby's eyes were getting used to the darkness. She noticed his heavy, tired, emotionless eyes, his spine slightly bent. She could see the thin line of his lips, his strong, sharp features and his eyes as dark as coal. He hadn't seemed very well yesterday either, or the day before. She knew he was having a hard time recently and there were rumors about him. Dr. Kovac was spending his nights in suspicious bars, leaving early in the morning with a different girl each time. Abby never listened to these rumors since she heard one about her, Romano and a hot romance. She judged people for what they were, what she saw and felt. But seeing Luka like that, demoralized and seemingly broken, she couldn't help wondering if they were true. 'Have you been out all night?'

He turned his gaze to her, staring at her harshly. "Not all night," he said finally.

Abby was becoming angry. What the hell was wrong with him? She wanted to shake him, to wake him up. But that was Luka; no more than five words a day. She thought he'd changed last year. They could joke around all day and talk about anything, everything. Now, his silences were dead, his words even worse.

She didn't know when it all began, when he started screwing every female in the ER, patients as well as nurses and neglecting his work. It wasn't like him, it wasn't the sensitive and caring Luka she knew too well. Her anger faded as soon as it had appeared. He had burried his face in his hands, elbows on his knees, screaming silently for help. Abby knew this kind of cry, except that when she allowed herself to, she was alone. Could never show a weakness in front of anybody, barely even to herself.

She laid quietly her hand on his back, sensing his stretched muscles relaxing a little. The room had lighted, the pale glow of the day forming a gold halo aroud his form. He was still his friend, a man she deadly cared about. Maybe he wouldn't want her help, but she did not have the intention to ask for his permission.

She nudged him gently. 'What's wrong, Luka?'

He didn't move, didn't say anything for a moment. How could he? How could he, after eleven years of holding back everything he felt, suddenly open up this hurting wound to her? How could he, now that her hand was burning his skin, waking up this feeling burried a long time ago? He was tired. He was so damn tired. And he was tired of being tired, tired of the tiredness. He wanted to live again, but it seemed to him that he was sinking from the beginning, and that his only savior couldn't reach him anymore. 'You're not there, Abby. You're not there…'

He shivered: her hand was gone. 'What do you mean?'

He looked up. She had furrowed her brows worriedly, and for a second, there was fear in her eyes. It was the first time he'd seen it and it was so quick, that for a moment he thought he had imagined it. Abby was scared, all the time, but she didn't show it. Not to him at least.

Strangely, losing Abby had been as painful as losing Danjiela. Something inside of him had died each time, and, in fact, he had the impression he'd died himself. He was only a ghost, a pale reflection of the the man he used to be, a bare soul gasping ridiculously for life.

He lowered his eyes and turned his head slowly, staring at his feet. His voice was low. 'I can't feel you.'

A quick glance, regret washing over him. She looked as though he had just slapped her. She sat up straight, startled, her mouth half-opened. Damn it. 'I mean, I can't feel anything. I…I can't even cry anymore.' He turned again, ashamed of his confession.

'Cry?'

He nodded hesitantly. 'Yeah…A few weeks ago, it was the anniversary of their death.' He bit his lower lip. 'Nothing came,' he wispered.

He felt drained, empty.

'Maybe…' she wasn't sure if it was a good idea, if he would listen to her. 'Maybe you should talk to someone…'

'I just did'

'Luka, you know what I mean.'

He leaned on the back of the couch, reaching automatically for the absent pack of cigarettes in his pocket. 'Yesterday, I went to a bar, on West Damen Avenue. There was this girl, don't remember her name. Long legs and all. We went to her place after a couple of drinks, had sex and, around 4 am, I paid her and went back to my appartment. Tonight it will be the same, and the day after, because I just realized how crappy my life is, how meaningless I am. I don't know what I'm doing, where I'm going and, honestly, I don't care anymore.'

He didn't give her time to absorb all this. He wasn't saying that because he wanted her compassion or pity, he only wanted her to know, because she once was his soul, his being. He got up and, after a moment, he was gone, the door of the loune closing behind his back.

Abby didn't move for a few minutes. Lips tight, body tense. She stood up slowly and went to the coffeemaker, eyes dry and determined. She poured herself a cup and coffee and followed Luka's steps, late for her shift.

The sun was up, the coffee was cold, patients were waiting to be seen. Another day, another tomorrow.

Sad eyes, dirty little hands. They had no coats, no gloaves. Diya had his sister in his arms, who had her thumb stuck in her mouth. She lifted her head when Afra began to sing, his little child voice sparkling in the cold air.

_Heaven bent to take my hand  
And lead me through the fire  
Be the long awaited answer  
To a long and painful fight  
_

Sad eyes, dirty little hands. They had no coats, no gloaves.

_  
Truth be told I've tried my best  
But somewhere along the way  
I got caught up in all there was to offer  
And the cost was so much more than I could bear  
_

It hurt, it hurt to breath. But his voice rose again because it was better than crying.

_Though I've tried, I've fallen...  
I have sunk so low  
I have messed up  
Better I should know  
So don't come round here  
And tell me I told you so..._

Nobody could hear him, the old building was empty.

_We all begin with good intent  
Love was raw and young  
We believed that we could change ourselves  
The past could be undone  
But we carry on our backs the burden  
Time always reveals  
The lonely light of morning  
The wound that would not heal  
It's the bitter taste of losing everything  
That I have held so dear._

Maha was smiling, her little head on the chest of his thin brother.

_I've fallen...  
I have sunk so low  
I have messed up  
Better I should know  
So don't come round here  
And tell me I told you so...  
_

Diya had his sister in his arms, who had her thumb stuck in her mouth.

_Heaven bent to take my hand  
Nowhere left to turn  
I'm lost to those I thought were friends  
To everyone I know  
Oh they turned their heads embarassed  
Pretend that they don't see  
But it's one missed step  
You'll slip before you know it  
And there doesn't seem a way to be redeemed  
_

Where was daddy? Nowhere to be found, nowhere to be seen.

_  
Though I've tried, I've fallen...  
I have sunk so low  
I have messed up  
Better I should know  
So don't come round here  
And tell me I told you so..._

Where was daddy? Maybe sniffing some coke, maybe getting himself drunk. But it didn't matter, both were killing him.


End file.
